


Bottles on the Wall

by Gracia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Budding Romance, F/M, General fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracia/pseuds/Gracia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is persuaded to approach the Inquisitor and admit his own feelings for her. Meanwhile the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Krem and Sera make good use of the bottles of Thedas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tastes of Burning

Bottles on the Wall

 

‘Inquisitor! Inquisitor! My Lady Herald! Your Worship!’

The continuous chant was music to Cullen’s ears and he smiled as he listened to the Inquisitor’s laughter drift up to his office. He resisted the urge to wrench himself from his desk, propel himself down the stairs and meet the Inquisitor returning back to Skyhold. After all, he would then have to push through the usual crowd of concerned and desperate people who flocked around her like seagulls vying for a fresh catch of fish. She was always patient with them, he would give her that.

Last time he _had_ been one with the crowd, pushed his way to the front to meet her and then completely forgotten what pretence he had cooked up just so he could speak with her. He’d jabbered like a village idiot in her presence before stalking back up to his office to mourn his own stupidity. So today, he would remain in his office and let others greet her back home.

He stared at the empty parchment on his desk, quill waiting for him to supply words to it. His mind was concentrating on the distant words of Myra Trevelyan-

_Yes! A giant fighting a dragon!_

_And the Inquisitor almost got us all killed scrambling up rocks to reach the next camp._ Came the Iron Bull’s booming voice, followed by Varric’s. _She hates paths._

Cullen dropped the quill onto his desk and crossed the room. He opened the door noiselessly and peered out of his doorway, hidden from view by the wall of stone battlements.

Even from this distance, he could see the exhaustion in the way Myra held herself as though her legs would give away any moment. He felt an unwelcome pang of jealousy when she handed her staff over to Blackwall. It was no secret to him that the two were close and Cullen sighed heavily, wondering what the Inquisitor was like outside these walls where she fought demons and closed rifts.

She’d been away for a while this time. Much longer than usual and if it wasn’t for his continual visits to badger Leliana, he wouldn’t have been sure of the Inquisitor’s wellbeing. Leliana kept her watched though and Cullen was eternally grateful for that. Only a handful of weeks ago, Myra returned with scorched skin and singed hair and informed him in that offhanded way she did that they’d slain a dragon. A bloody dragon!

Cullen watched as the Inquisitor finished talking to her trainer. Everyone walked away from her in different directions and he saw her gaze lift towards his tower. He knew he was out of her line of sight  but only barely. Finally she tore her gaze away, rubbed at her shoulder and marched across the courtyard. He didn’t doubt that she was heading to the war room. He leant forward a little against the wall of the battlements to see her she disappear through the huge double doors. The sun was setting slowly behind the fortress, tinging the sky fire-orange. A colour that reminded him of Haven collapsing into flames and of the Inquisitor, missing for days in the cruel snow. He wished to aid her, more than anything he wished he could be close to her like Varric or Blackwall and fight by her side and yet-

‘You should talk to her, you know.’

Cullen yelled in surprise and pivoted around to identify the voice who had interrupted his most private of thoughts. A slight young woman, garbed from the neck down in mage battle armour, stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Black strands of hair drifted across her pale face as she watched him with an amused expression and a raised eyebrow. It was only Hawke who still had the uncanny ability to creep up on him like that.

‘Who?’ Cullen queried innocently and she only shook her head.

‘Sera.’ Hawke drawled sarcastically. ‘Who do you think I mean? Our wonderful mage Inquisitor.’

‘I talk to her all the time.’ Cullen responded offhandedly and Hawke nodded then spoke slowly as though talking to a child.

‘Alright but have you really _talked_ to her. I don’t mean requisition orders and work. I mean casually, like friends?’

‘We played chess.’ Cullen objected but Hawke ignored him.

‘I realise you aren’t fond of mage but she’s beautiful, strong, intelligent… Are you saying that these are traits you don’t appreciate in a woman, Cullen?’

‘Well… of course not. I just- it’s not…’

Cullen snapped his mouth closed and glared across the courtyard to avoid Hawke’s unrelenting gaze. He hated the way the woman always managed to coax him into answering questions he’d rather not. She certainly reminded him a little of the Hero of Ferelden who also had the same talent of pushing and shoving her way into other’s business. Hawke often like to remind him that she was related to the Hero of Ferelden, despite having her own equally impressive title as the Champion of Kirkwall.

‘Oh, I’m just teasing. Don’t get yourself all wound up, Commander.’ She moved to lean against the wall Cullen was standing by. ‘I asked the Inquisitor if I could join her on her next mission and she refused.’

‘Varric would never forgive her if something happened to you, Hawke and they are inseparable. I don’t blame her.’

‘I have intimate knowledge of blood mages-‘

‘Blood mages or no, the Inquisitor doesn’t want to put you in more danger than necessary. Don’t worry, _Champion_. You aren’t missing out.’ Cullen teased and Hawke laughed quietly.

‘My my. You have changed since Kirkwall, Cullen. I’ve seen you watching the Inquisitor though. I used to do the same. Afraid to jump in in case I hurt someone-‘

‘Hawke.’ Cullen cut in, looking the woman in her icy-blue eyes. ‘Please. Just stop.’

‘Not until you admit to yourself that you care for her and no matter how long you stare at her from up here in your tall tower, you’ll get no closer to her.’ Hawke pushed herself away from the wall, her armour clinking as she did so. ‘I should get back to Alistair. The Inquisitor asked me personally to ensure he was comfortable so I think that gives us full reign of the kitchens.’ She started to head across the battlements but paused as she passed him. ‘For the record, Commander, I’ve seen the way she looks at you too. I’ve heard a lot of people are quite taken with her. You certainly don’t want to miss your chance now, do you?’

With that, Hawke sauntered away and Cullen sighed. He cast a cautious look back into his office where the box containing his lyrium sat beneath piles of endless paperwork. He knew Hawke was right but… he rarely took chances when it came to women and perhaps it was time for him to step down from his tower and… and…

And do what exactly?

 

For the next handful of hours, Cullen buried himself in reports and requisition orders, sorting them into priorities before answering each one personally. This paperwork would definitely take him into the early hours of the morning and every now and again he would catch himself staring out of the window, his thoughts on Myra and what she was doing now she was back. She had neglected her usual rounds. Usually she’d come across the way after speaking to Solas, Dorian and Leliana and enter the room with a polite knock, never waiting for his answer. Cullen found himself tempted to seek _her_ out for a change.

It was a temptation that easily won and not ten minutes later, Cullen was slamming the door to his office and locking it. He took the steps two at a time down to the courtyard. Now the sun had set, it was quiet and all he could hear was the bard’s relaxing singing drifting out of the tavern.

The sight of the Commander of the Inquisition waltzing into the tavern must have been more than some people could take. A few agents sent him cautious glances and his soldiers half rose from their seats to issue a chain of drunken salutes, he quickly ushered them back into their seats before heading over to the bar.

On the other side of the tavern, her dark hair shining in the torchlight, sat the Myra across from Sera, Iron Bull and Krem. Each of them were holding shot glasses filled to the brim. In her other hand was a large bottle he didn’t recognise and Myra was currently squinting to see the words inscribed on the label. Her nose scrunched up as she did so:

‘Bull, it says “It tastes like burning”…’ Her words were a little slurred as she put the bottle back down on the table with a bang. ‘I can’t taste any burning, can you?’

Sera was laughing so hard she snorted and almost fell off her chair. The alcohol in her glass only just avoided soaking the elf’s clothing and Krem’s arm shot out to catch her.

‘Boss, I think you’ve drunk too much to feel the burn anymore.’ Bull noted as he clinked his shot glass against the others and roared out something in Quanari that Cullen couldn’t translate. They all knocked back their glasses and pulled identical faces of repulsion.

‘It don’t get better.’ Sera grumbled, slamming her shot glass face down.

‘Why do you keep collecting these bottles?’ Krem queried, the soberest of the bunch even though he was softly swaying to the bard’s music.

‘Yeah, Quiz. They taste like piss.’ Sera chimed in as the Inquisitor pulled the cork out of the bottle.

‘Oh, well I’ll let you all in on a little secret.’ She began and dropped her voice to a loud whisper that Cullen was sure the majority of the tavern could still hear. ‘Alcohol is a good way to make me forget who I am. Just for a little while.’

Cullen smiled but also felt a little sad for the woman who had been thrown headfirst into a situation she never asked for. It was then he noticed that her sapphire-blues were staring right back at him. For a mad moment, he considered fleeing the tavern as in turn Bull, Krem and inevitably Sera all followed the Inquisitor’s gaze.

‘Oh! It’s Cully-Wully!’ Sera announced with a slurred voice. Cullen cringed as she beckoned him over. ‘Come have a drink with us!’

The Inquisitor stared up at him with a sultry look laced with the haze of alcohol before she looked away from him and fussed after her short hair. He’d never seen this side of her. She had seemed so carefree just a moment ago, Sera’s influence no doubt.

‘Come! Sit!’ Boomed Bull’s voice and he virtually strong-armed Cullen into the seat next to the Inquisitor. A heartbeat later, Bull had poured him a shot and shoved it solidly into his hands. He took a brief sniff of the thick syrupy alcohol. It smelt like charcoal. ‘What brings you here to mingle with us common folk?’

Cullen felt his eyes snap towards the Inquisitor and he forced them back to his shot glass. Over his glass he could see Sera’s eyes twinkling wickedly.

‘Oh. I think we know, right?’

‘It’s not business is it, Commander?’ Myra asked softly, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could but Cullen could see the hope in her eyes and he melted. Oh yes. He was definitely going to need this drink.

‘No, my Lady. I was coming in for ale but I suppose this will do-‘ He downed the shot in one. His throat and body did indeed burn as though there was a dragon that had taken up residence in his stomach. He choked loud much to Sera’s delight. ‘…What _is_ this?’

Bull clapped him on the back. ‘That’ll put some hair on your chest.’

He glanced over at Myra who was still watching him. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and he was sure he was closer than he’d ever seen her before. He could almost feel her skin touching his even though they weren’t quite close enough. He could definitely sense her wild magic as it radiated off her in waves. He cleared his throat, causing another violent coughing fit.

‘I think the Commander needs more alcohol.’ Bull announced, snatching back Cullen’s shot glass. ‘Sera?’

‘Fuck yeah!’ Sera affirmed, grabbing for the bottle.

 


	2. The Masks We Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen, Myra, Iron Bull, Sera and Krem are enjoying the potent alcohol they found on the road when Solas enters the tavern bearing bad news. Cullen takes care of a very drunk Inquisitor.

It had to be said that Cullen had not done a great deal of drinking for almost ten years. The last time he’d touched strong liqueur felt like a century ago, after the Circle Tower was overrun with abominations and the Hero of Ferelden had saved his sorry ass.

And Maker, was he an ass.

He’d drunk to drown the cruel things he’d heard and seen in the Ferelden Circle but nothing could erase the things he’d said, and who he’d been willing to sacrifice for his own pathetic fears.

He’d avoided alcohol for a time then. Even as Knight-Commander in Kirkwall, he hadn’t so much as smelt the stuff even when he _really_ needed a drink (after all, Hawke was very trying). That was true up until he’d stopped taking lyrium and then ale would help ease the worst of the cravings. But only barely.

Cullen began to relate drinking to something terrible – the memories he hoped to leave behind, the pain and shame of his addiction… But now, staring into the flushed face of the Inquisitor as they all sung along to the bard’s song ( _Sera was never quite the quietest girl_ – much to Sera’s disapproval) he wondered how he had ever thought of alcohol as something he would need to bury himself in. If alcohol allowed him to sit beside the beautiful Inquisitor no-questions-asked then how bad could it possibly be?

Ex-Templar or no, she was intoxicating. He could still sense her magic, taste it on his lips as her control of it slipped a little in her drunken state. He’d despised magic for such a long time but Myra’s was warm and sweet and gentle like a late summer breeze.

As he thought of the warmth of her magic, he suddenly experienced the warmth of her skin. She moved to stretch. Her skin brushed his as she returned her arms back to their original position and he realised how much closer she had become. Either one of them had shuffled unconsciously toward the other and now their thighs we pressed together on the bench.

Just as the Iron Bull and Krem were deafening the patrons with their cat-straggled singing, Solas strode into the tavern. Cullen was sure the man _glowed_ , he definitely had a regal air to him and Cullen found the elf rather arrogant. He rarely approved of the Inquisitor’s methods, no matter what she did and he’d heard that Solas kept himself distant from the rest of Myra’s scouting members when they were in the field. Sera nudged Iron Bull and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder.

‘Solas!’ Iron Bull bellowed with the lack of discretion that Iron Bull was famous for.

‘Yay!’ Sera whispered sarcastically and pulled a face. Myra covered her mouth to stop from giggling as Solas glided over to their table. They must have looked quite a sight and Solas looked down at them with a superiority that irritated Cullen. His eyes skipped from Iron Bull to Krem to Sera then to Myra and Cullen and then finally back to Myra.

‘Inquisitor, I must speak with you.’

‘Can’t it wait.’ Bull demanded, already pouring both Cullen and Myra a shot simultaneously. ‘Would it be too much to ask for you to sit and have a drink, Solas? Surely business can wait till morning.’

‘I don’t think the Inquisitor is in any state to be advising anybody.’ Cullen agreed. Solas sent him an icy stare that seemed to cut straight through him. He didn’t answer Iron Bull or Cullen and returned his focus to Myra.

‘It’s about the Fade. Something’s wrong.’

Cullen noticed Myra perk up and her hand pause halfway to her shot glass. Eventually she pulled her hand back and glanced up at the apostate mage.

‘The Fade?’ She repeated, she made to stand but Cullen pulled her back into her seat. He’d seen mages enter the Fade when they weren’t in their right minds and Myra had had enough alcohol to floor a quanari – almost. He was surprised she was still conscious and making sense. Mages died or lost themselves to the Fade in this state and he was _sure_ Leliana would have him beheaded on the spot if he failed to stop her entering the Fade in her current state of mind.

‘Oh no you don’t. You are not fit to enter the Fade.’ Cullen reprimanded her and Solas, looking between them with his very best Templar-expression. Bull was standing and looked more than ready to strong-arm the elf out of the tavern. Sera was falling asleep on the table, mouth open and drooling. Cullen saw Myra’s eyes skip over him and Bull before ignoring them both completely.

‘What is it? What’s wrong with the Fade?’

Iron Bull met Cullen’s gaze with a look that said: _It’s like we aren’t even here. Mages._

‘The Black City. It’s gone.’

Myra’s face drained of colour and her hands clutched at the table.

‘Gone? What do you mean- Gone! It can’t be- It can’t just-‘ She was standing again and Cullen pushed her down for a second time.

‘No.’ He stated firmly. ‘It can wait till you are rested and sober.’

She looked as though she was about to scream at him, her eyes narrowing but Solas gracefully raised his hands in defeat.

‘You’re right, Commander. The Inquisitor has certainly lost the ability to think clearly.’ His blue eyes burned into Cullen’s but he refused to look away. ‘When she is sufficiently sober, I ask only that you remind her of this conversation.’

He spun back towards the door in one smooth movement.

‘Wait, Solas!’

‘Tomorrow.’ Cullen reminded her as she slumped back onto the bench with a pout.

‘When is dawn?’

‘When you’re sober.’

Myra’s eyes glazed for a moment and he felt a soft pulse of her magic as she quoted text from the Chant of Light regarding the Black City. ‘ _And there I saw the Black City. Its towers forever stain'd. Its gates forever shut.Heaven has been filled with silence, I knew then, And cross'd my heart with shame_.’

Yes. That was a terrifying thought. If the Black City truly had disappeared from the Fade… Was that even possible? Solas had looked paler than usual and Myra looked troubled beyond belief. The Black City was the only constant in the Fade – the only vague fixed point within it. If that was gone…

‘Bunnies in masks.’ Sera muttered in her sleep causing Myra to smile a little and Cullen to break away from his thoughts.

‘Well,’ Bull announced, stretching his great muscles so much that Cullen was sure he was flexing for the Inquisitor’s benefit, ‘I think it’s time I catch some shuteye. I still have some scars that need washing from the day’s activities. G’night Boss, Commander.’

With that he stood, pulled the sleeping form of Sera into his arms and ascended the stairs, presumably to deposit the rogue in her bed before heading to his own. Krem said a brief goodbye to Myra and Cullen before retiring himself. Myra lifted her bottle and shook it. They both listened to the quiet _sloshing_ noise as liquid hit thick glass. There was hardly anything left in the bottle. As Cullen wondered whether it was worth corking it, Myra put it to her lips and downed the remainder, followed by a violent choking fit.

Cabot, their mysterious bartender, crossed the tavern as Cullen spotted the bard packing away from instruments. The dwarf began to wipe down the tables before he stopped at theirs.

‘I’m closing up for the night. I’ll take your empties.’ As though Cabot had eight arms, he quickly swiped up all the tankards and shot glasses. He paused for a moment, nodded towards the door and then left.

Meanwhile, Myra had sunk deeper and deeper into her seat. Her eyes were drooping and she was humming _Once We Were_ in a soft tune. Cullen stood and instantly regretted the movement as the excessive alcohol made his head spin.

‘Myra, it’s time to go to bed.’

‘I’ll just sl-sleep here.’ She yawned and rested her head back on her arms in front of her, preparing for an undisturbed sleep in the silence of the tavern. Cullen rubbed at his neck awkwardly. ‘Just leave me to sleep.’ She mumbled again.

‘Here? And risk subjecting myself to Leliana and Josephine’s wrath when your muscles ache tomorrow? I think not, my Lady. We need to get you water and a warm bed.’

He reached out to shake her softly and she swatted his hand away.

‘My bed is too far.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’ Cullen swore but Myra didn’t move. He sighed heavily. ‘You know, the table is really sticky with alcohol. If you stay here much longer, your hair will all stick together and it’ll take days to clean out-‘

‘You’re cruel.’ Myra slurred but she finally lifted her head up from the table. Her hair was stuck up in different directions and she rubbed at her eyes like a sleepy child. For a moment, Cullen almost forgot that she was the Inquisitor and Herald. No woman this adorable could possibly be a magic-wielding, dragon-slaying, Venitori-murdering leader of the Inquisition.

‘Come on, Myra.’

‘Alright, alright. Your wish is my command, Commander.’ She giggled at that. He held out a hand to help her stand up and with wobbly movements, Myra lifted herself from the bench. Cullen helped her across the tavern. As soon as they stepped into the courtyard and breathed in the mountain air, her condition worsened and she could hardly walk straight. Neither could she talk straight.

‘You know, you aren’t all you pretend to be, Commander.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You try to project this strong, unbreakable perso-persona,’ she began and almost sounded a little angry about it. She stopped and thought for a long moment about what she wanted to say. ‘But I see riiiight through you.’

She tried to point a finger at him but instead tripped over nothing but her own two feet. She only just managed to right her footing before spinning around to cross her arms at him.

‘I think you’re scared.’

‘You aren’t wrong.’ He admitted, something that he hadn’t dared voice out-loud to anyone. Of course he was scared. Anyone in their right mind would be; Red Templars, Haven’s Destruction, Myra’s constant brushes with death… Did she really expect him to be calm and collected about what they all did on a day to day basis? She watched him for a heartbeat with those sparkling blue eyes before she whispered: ‘So I am.’

‘That’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘Yes it is! I’m the _Inquisitor_! I’m the _Herald_ of Andraste!’ She announced, placing emphasis on her titles. ‘That’s what everyone keeps telling me and _I’m_ scared. It’s exhausting trying to be something you aren’t. How in Thedas do you do it?’

Cullen smiled comfortingly. ‘A great deal of practice, Lady Trevelyan. And if it’s any consolation, I think you are very good at wearing your Brave-Mask. You give a lot of people hope and confidence to move forward.’

She laughed at that. The courtyard echoed with her laughter and then all at once, her muscles sagged and she swayed on her feet. Cullen’s reflexes sparked and he caught her as she passed out.

‘You really shouldn’t drink stuff you find on the road.’ Cullen muttered and lifted her smoothly into his arms. He looked down to see a soft smile on her red lips and shook his head. He gazed around, stood alone in the centre of the courtyard with the Inquisitor in his arms.

Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I’m sorry any Solas lovers out there! But my first Inquisitor seemed to upset Solas left, right and centre no matter what she did. He never approved of anything! So in my first playthrough, I never even completed his personal quest because he didn’t like my Inquisitor (Oops!). So this was my impression of Solas from my first playthrough – in my second game, I was a bit more careful to please him and actually really love him now. Yay, Solas! I got the impression that the rest of my party didn’t really like him but he just doesn’t care because you know, he’s Solas.

**Author's Note:**

> Because who wouldn't want to see Cullen join in the drinking with the Inquisitor?


End file.
